


Where Angels Lose Their Way

by AgenderMaine (AngelusErrare)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Agent Carolina & Agent Washington are Siblings, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, ctmainewash, nobody fucking dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelusErrare/pseuds/AgenderMaine
Summary: CT sighs. "How many AI do you think the Project was commissioned? Five? Eight? A dozen?" She doesn't give either of them time to answer, setting the datapad aside. "He was only given one, guys."





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The medics say most of the damage was fixed, but there will always be a chance that a single cough will turn into a fit that causes the scars in Maine's throat to open. 
> 
> They say it isn't likely to ever be fatal. Washington isn't sure he believes them.

This isn't the first time he's woken up coughing.

 

From his bunk on the other side of the room Wash watches Maine sit up, clutching at his throat as he gasps and chokes and he sounds so fucking _scared_ that Wash is up before he even registers moving.

Wash is across the room in a few quick steps, his hand coming to Maine's shoulder as his partner looks up at him wide-eyed. There's blood on his lips-- the medics say most of the damage was fixed, but there will always be a chance that a single cough will turn into a fit that causes the scars in his throat to open. 

They say it isn't likely to ever be fatal. Washington isn't sure he believes them.

He leaves Maine for only a second, long enough to dart into their shared bathroom and return with a washcloth which he wordlessly hands over. Maine holds it over his mouth with his free hand as the horrible wracking cough starts up again. Even in the dim light of their room, Wash can see the panic in the other man's eyes.

"They said this would happen," he soothes, and Maine lets out a strangled sound that twists the knot of anxiety in Wash's stomach. "I know, big guy, I know. Just try to breathe."

 _Breathing_ is one of those things that has been difficult for Maine since the incident, not that anyone but Wash or Carolina knows. If he let it be known to the Director or Counselor, he'd be off the team for good. Part of Wash thinks that would be best; the rest knows nothing short of death itself will keep Maine from taking care of the team.

His hand rubs up and down Maine's back as soothingly as he can manage, stuttering some as his partner doubles over with this next fit. He has to keep chanting to himself that they were promised this wouldn't be fatal, that this will lessen with time.

He isn't reassured until Maine straightens again, wiping the cloth against his lips and breathing as deeply as he can through his nose. When he exhales, he nods to himself and tosses the bloody cloth at their shared hamper, swallows hard, and then tries to swing his legs over the side of the bed to stand up.

Wash isn't having any of that bullshit. "Whoa whoa whoa, where do you think you're going?"

Maine rolls his eyes and growls something that sounds suspiciously like _water_.

"You're staying right there," Wash mutters, standing up himself. Not that he can really enforce that; if Maine wanted to, the big guy could easily shove him aside and get his own damn drink. Still, Wash is glad he sits still, allowing him to walk into the bathroom and grab one of the glasses they keep beside the sink, filling it with cool water.

When he returns, Maine is rubbing at his throat with one hand, fingertips tracing the thick network of bullet and surgical scars. He takes the glass Wash offers carefully, sipping slowly as Wash watches him. When he finishes it, he sets it down on the table by his bed and looks up at Wash as if to say, _satisfied?_

"Yeah," Wash murmurs, though his smile isn't quite genuine. Maine may get over fear quickly, but Wash just can't. "Anything else you need?"

Maine shakes his head, then frowns, looking up at Wash again. That look is pleading, a question, but why the hell does Maine look like he's trying to shrink into himself? As if Wash would ever say no to anything he asked?

"Yeees?"

A sigh at the prompt, then a low, almost lionlike rumble. He shifts over a few inches on the bed and tilts his head.

_Stay with me?_

Wash grins. "Alright, but you gotta budge up some more there, buddy."

The relieved smile almost hurts, and reveals just how shaken up Maine really is about this latest fit. As far as Wash can tell, Maine has _never_ felt as though he had to outright ask if Wash would sleep next to him. Usually the big guy would just pull him into the bed with him. As it is, Maine shifts over some more, allowing Wash room to crawl into the bed beside him, shaking some as he wraps his arms around the smaller freelancer.

Maine falls asleep quickly. Always has.

Wash, not so much. Snuggled up to Maine as he is, he would normally be out like a light, but seeing that alarm in his partner's eyes has him worried. He's used to Maine being afraid for others on the team; the man has no instinct for self-preservation and is far too quick to rush haphazardly across a battlefield to pick up a fallen teammate. But Wash can't recall ever seeing Maine afraid for himself. And worried Wash wouldn't stay with him? Wouldn't reassure him?

Well then. Clearly, Wash decides as he finally closes his eyes, he'll have to make sure he's always there to remind Maine he isn't alone. That he doesn't have to deal with this on his own.

 

And maybe, in this universe, that will be enough to save him.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning after this latest fit from Maine, Wash pulls CT aside at lunch with an urgent whisper. Really, he didn't need to be so insistent; all he had to say was "it's about Maine" and she would have come in an instant. But she's been acting strange recently, and Wash feels as though they're drifting apart. He knows she's hiding something from them, but he also knows she'll tell them when she's ready. She always has.

Their locker room is usually empty during lunch, but Wash avoids it, tugging her straight to his room and double checking that Maine isn't inside before stepping in and locking the door behind them.

"CT," he begins with a frown. He isn't used to calling her that; she's always been Connie to him, always been his friend-- so much more than a friend, actually. It doesn't feel right calling her anything else.

"What's wrong with Maine?"

Trust her to get straight to the point. "He's scared," Wash blurts out, and then everything he's been trying to figure out how to say tumbles out before he can even stop to wonder if it's coherent. "He had another fit last night and it woke him up and he was so damn scared and Connie-CT I've never seen him look so afraid. He thought I wasn't gonna stay with him and make sure he's okay I've never seen that look on his face you know he doesn't give a fuck if he gets shot but--"

" _Wash._ " CT spreads her hands in a perfect imitation of Maine's Wash-you're-talking-too-damn-fast gesture, something she probably picked up from their many nights spent together in the rec room or the room Wash and Maine share. "Calm down, and maybe try saying that again with, you know, sentences."

Her voice is more cutting than he's used to, and it shocks Wash enough for him to try again. "CT, he's terrified. I know he plays it off like it's just another wound, but shit, have you _seen_ him during one of his fits?"

"It's only been a few days, Wash," CT points out. "He's still healing. Didn't the doctors say the coughing is nothing to worry about?"

Washington frowns. "Yeah, but do you really trust them?"

A hesitation. Something that flashes across her eyes too quickly for him to puzzle out. Then a soft sigh. "No."

"It happened again last night," Wash mutters after a moment, staring at the bloody washcloth that didn't quite land in the hamper the previous night. "Really bad. It woke him up, and he coughed up a lot of blood. And when it stopped..."

CT settles into her usual spot on the end of Maine's bed, and Wash doesn't even notice how he mirrors her as he plops onto his own. "What was different this time?"

He sighs, the look in Maine's eyes burned into his mind. "He _asked_ if I would sleep with him. When has Maine ever asked us to sleep with him?"

Frowning, CT glances at the floor. The thin carpet has grooves worn in from the amount of times the three have pushed the two military bunks together to make room for all of them to cuddle. "Never. He's never had to."

"CT, I know you've been having a rough time--" she scoffs as if that's an understatement, and Wash crushes the urge to flinch ( _she's not usually like this, she's never like this, and why does her distance and Maine's injury feel so much like the world is falling apart_ )-- "and I get that you want to be alone or something, but please. We've tried to give you your space. All I'm asking is that you help me. Help Maine."

Wash is a fidgeter. When he's not talking, he has to do something with his hands, anything to occupy them. When CT doesn't reply, he clenches his fists and picks at the rough skin around his nails in alteration, gritting his teeth when a pulled hangnail begins to bleed.

Finally, CT whispers, almost too soft for him to hear, "Carolina is going to give him her AI."

"She's already been implanted?"

Another scoff. "No, but she's next on the list. She says it's her fault he got hurt, so she'll give him the AI so he can still speak."

"He speaks just fine!" Maine has never needed words to get his point across. The man is a master of body language and silent sarcasm.

"I _know_ that, Wash." CT's harsh tone is really fucking with him; it's the exact opposite of the affectionate, sweet, and sometimes snarky woman he has come to love. "We know that. And normally, Lina would too. But she's... distracted."

"You mean tearing herself apart," the blonde corrects with a sigh. "This thing with Tex is really getting to her."

"Your dad is kind of an ass, Wash."

"That's an underst-- wait, what? You know?"

The wry grin he gets in return is more like the Connie he knows and loves. "I'm a hacker, Washington. It really didn't take much to figure out that your real name is David Church-- a last name you and Carolina share with the Director."

He shouldn't be surprised, he really shouldn't, but there Wash is with his mouth hanging open and CT actually _laughing_ at the look on his face. It's been so long since he's heard her genuinely laugh, and a moment later he's chuckling with her.

"Alright, you got me there. Lina's my big sister, and... _he_ hasn't been our dad in a long time." 

"He hasn't been many things," CT mutters, then sighs. "Wash. Don't let Maine get that implant." Before he can open his mouth, she bites her lip. "Do you trust me?"

"Always."

This time her smile is hopeful, but it fades quickly. "The AI aren't what you think they are-- don't ask me to explain. I can't, not yet. And... I don't like what the Director's files say about the one Carolina is supposed to get."

"Connie... CT. Just how much of his database have you hacked into?"

The shrug is supposed to be nonchalant, but Wash is as familiar with her body language as they both are with Maine's. She's rather pleased with herself. "Most of it. FILSS managed to block me from some of the high-profile stuff, but I'll manage to break through in a few days."

Wash blinks. Chews his inner lip... ventures a guess. "How long have you been working on them?"

CT eyes him for a long time before averting her gaze to the floor again, pondering. Then, "A few months."

It's only in the past four months that she's been pushing them away, growing more and more distant with everyone on the team, confusing both of her boyfriends with her sudden absence from their room. If Wash's definition of "a few months" lines up with hers...

"So what did you find?"

She shakes her head, auburn hair falling over her right eye for a moment. "Not yet, Wash." When he tries to protest she cuts him off. "Just give me a few more days. _Please_. I promise I'll explain everything once I get through this last round of decryption."

Wash swallows hard, meeting the determined brown eyes a few feet in front of him. "I'm holding you to that promise, Connie."

 

In this universe, Connecticut doesn't leave quite so soon. 

In this universe, Connecticut doesn't leave at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This??? wasn't supposed to happen??? This was supposed to be an angsty one-shot?


	3. Chapter 3

"Agent Maine is scheduled for implantation," the Counselor states calmly, giving Wash that emotionless stare that always gives him the creeps.

Summoning up his best sweet-and-naive-rookie grin, Wash tugs on Maine's arm until the giant stands up, then chirps, "Don't worry, this will only take a minute!"

It won't, because Wash is going to get Maine as far from the infirmary and that creep as possible, even if it really only means he'll drag the big lug to their room and lock the door. And maybe see if CT can hack their lock to change the passcode to something the Director and Counselor won't know.

... if he doesn't outright shoot his father for whatever it is CT is about to tell them. He trusts her instincts, trusts _her_ , so the moment the blip on his textCOM showed up ( _he was half worried she wouldn't keep her promise; it's been over a week but she's never broken a promise to them, never_ ) he finished stripping out of his armor without bothering to clean the last bits of lockdown paint out of the grooves between plates.

[ **CT:** _your room. bring maine_ ]

Maine doesn't know about the conversation Wash and CT had several days prior, doesn't know why Wash asked him to delay the surgery as long as he could, or why the smaller man burst into the infirmary just as he was about to be given the anaesthetic. He follows his partner anyway, letting Wash lead him out of the med bay and through several corridors that definitely _do not_ lead to the waiting room Washington promised the Counselor they'd go to.

Wash enters the code for their room into the keypad, frowning when it flashes red and sounds the rejection beep.

He knocks instead, feeling more than a little awkward asking permission to enter his own room, but that falls away when CT opens the door and he catches sight of the dark circles under her eyes. She looks like she spent the week running on nothing but coffee, but there's a calm sense of triumph glittering in her eyes that says she considers it worth it.

"Sorry," she murmurs after the door is shut and locked once more, taking a seat on the floor rather than one of the beds and fiddling with her datapad. Maine and Wash settle on their respective beds, bodies angled toward CT. "I would have texted you the code, but the Director has access to all the logs."

Maine rumbles low, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Wash echoes, not that Maine actually _said_ anything. "Don't worry about it."

CT turns to Maine, her smile apologetic. "Thank you for stalling the implant, big guy. Sorry Wash didn't tell you why. I asked him not to." 

Maine huffs as if to say, _Obviously_ , before shifting his weight on the bed, shuffling over several inches and patting the blanket next to him. Wordlessly, Connie clambers up into the bed to sit beside him, though she shakes her head when he reaches out to her.

"Its name is Sigma," she begins, tapping the datapad lightly. "The one they were going to give you." Maine nods as if he knew this. "According to the low-level file they were going to give you, its personality attributes lean strongly towards creativity and ambition. It has a talent for analysis surpassing that of Delta and Theta combined. According to the Counselor's private files..." CT's mouth twists into a grimace, disgust flashing in her eyes. "It's unstable. Asks too many questions about _metastability_. Likely to cause issues for the agent it's paired with. This file--" she swipes right, enlarging something on the screen that Wash can't quite make out from where he sits-- "says the only person who would probably be able to handle it is Carolina, and even then the odds of success are only 62 percent."

Wash can see Maine's hazel eyes shift as he reads the files over CT's shoulder, watches him frown and reach over her to scroll down. He points to one word, humming the soft sound Wash has come to know as a question.

"Metastability. I was about to get to that," CT explains, something unreadable in her eyes. "In chemistry, metastability is the state that allows atoms to last longer than their usual lifespan. In AI, it's... similar. It prevents the inevitable breakdown of sanity that all AI eventually face-- they usually only last a few years. A metastable AI is as close to human as they can get. Theoretically, they _are_ human."

"I guess lack of a body does kind of make impossible to go beyond 'theoretically', huh." Wash says more to himself than anyone else. CT nods anyway.

"Most AI don't reach metastability. It's random chance which ones do or don't, as far as anyone can tell. But the thing is, only a whole AI can become metastable."

"Whole?" Wash asks at the same time Maine grunts something similar.

CT doesn't look at either of them. In fact, she seems very absorbed with a loose thread in Maine's blanket. Maine prods her side, earning something that almost looks like a glare-- it falls apart the moment she meets his eyes and sees the concern there. 

She sighs. "How many AI do you think the Project was commissioned? Five? Eight? A dozen?" She doesn't give either of them time to answer, setting the datapad aside. "He was only given _one_ , guys."

"But there's at least six!" Wash blurts, counting them out on his fingers. "Theta, Delta, that one Wyoming has, Sigma, and then me and South are on the implant list too so there's gotta be two more, right?" The look CT is giving him isn't pity; she would never insult him with pity. But the sympathy in her eyes hurts deeper than pity would because he knows how long she's been sitting on this information. Still, he has to push. "Right?"

"How do you turn one AI into six or more, Wash?" she asks gently.

He doesn't answer, can't answer. He doesn't know.

It's only due to reflex that the datapad doesn't tumble to the floor when it bounces off his knee, and Wash fumbles to turn it right side up so he can read the file CT opened for him. It's something from the Director's personal logs, some sort of documentation of a process on what he's calling the Alpha-- the first AI. The AI, he realizes as he continues to read, that is based off of his father himself.

The AI-- and here a knot begins to form in his stomach, something he can't quite identify, though the words _shock, disgust, and hatred_ might be close-- that the Director has spent the last several months psychologically torturing.

"It's how it protects itself," CT says sadly, finally letting Maine put his hand on her shoulder, leaning into his touch. "It casts off bits of itself to make the pain go away. Then they use the Sarcophagus, the Engineer _we_ stole from Charon, to stabilize the fragments enough for implantation. That's why they're listed as 'attributes'. They embody whatever part of itself the Alpha was throwing away to make it stop."

Wash thinks of Theta, the nervous, childlike AI whose file North said labeled him as "trust". Imagines him as the result of torture, trust hurt and broken so severely the Alpha threw it away to make the hurting stop. The lump in the pit of his stomach tightens.

"How many." His voice is flat as he lifts the datapad, unable to read any further.

"Nine," CT answers, watching him carefully. "But... love, you aren't going to like this."

The noise that escapes him was probably supposed to be a laugh. It sounds more like a cry for help. "My father's a war criminal, Connie. Are you telling me there's something worse than that in these files?"

She nods, worry plain on her features. She shuffles closer to Maine as if seeking his warmth, and he pulls her into his lap and wraps one arm around her waist, the other extended to Wash. After a moment, he takes it, crawling into the bed next to them despite the fact that these beds were really never meant to have three people in them, sitting or otherwise. The ominous creak of the metal below him really doesn't do anything to ease the dread Wash is feeling right now.

Neither do the tears shining in Connie's eyes. "Tex is one of them. She was the first thing the Alpha cast off. And she's--" she breaks off, grabbing both of his hands in hers and holding on tightly. "The Alpha threw away memories of certain people. At one point it even let go of _all_ its memories. But for the most part, none of those memories could form stable AI."

"Which ones did?" Wash asks, though he's pretty sure he knows now. Who else would Connie be so upset to tell him about?

"Your mother."

He knew. The moment she grabbed his hands he knew, but knowing and actually hearing it are two vastly different things, and Washington isn't prepared for how hard it hits him. He barely feels Maine put his left arm around him, or Connie releasing his hands to pull him into a tight hug of her own. He doesn't feel much of anything, actually, physical or otherwise. Every part of him is focused on those two words. _Your mother._

His voice is a rough whisper when he says, "So that's why he's so obsessed with her. Why she's at the top. He never could let go of her."

"Wash, I'm so sorry," Connie murmurs into his hair, and Maine rubs his hand up and down Wash's back, rumbling something that for once Wash can't make out.

 

In this universe, Wash has something along the lines of a breakdown. And for the first time in months, when the tears start both of his lovers are there with him.


	4. Chapter 4

It takes almost two hours before the tears stop flowing, but surprisingly, Wash feels better for it. His head is resting against Connie's, both of them pressed against Maine's broad chest, and despite being somewhat dehydrated and having a pounding headache, he feels right now. 

It probably has more to do with the Maine and Connie cuddles than his actual acceptance of what he's learned, but hey. He's just discovered his father is torturing an AI and the emotionally distant teammate his sister is running herself ragged over is actually an AI shadow of their dead mother created from that torture. Understanding those pieces of information and accepting them are two vastly different things and to be totally honest Wash doesn't think he's _ready_ to accept them.

Well, the second one, at least. After all these years, it's sadly not that much of a stretch for him to believe his father is a war criminal.

They've been snuggled up quietly together for several minutes, and he's loath to break the silence, but he has to. "Does she know?" His throat is sore and really, the last thing he wants to do is talk about any of this, but the next breakdown is probably going to involve a lot more punching and he'd like to get his questions out of the way _before_ having to break the news to Carolina.

"Tex?" Connie guesses, lifting her head from Maine's chest. "I don't think so. I think she would have done something if she knew. Told one of you, maybe just gone after him immediately."

It doesn't sound like what he remembers of _her_ , but based on what he's seen in training and on the field, it's pretty damn accurate for Tex. He can't- _won't_ \-- call her Allison. She may be _based_ on his mother, but the cold, violent woman in black armor is _nothing_ like Allison. Nothing like the few fuzzy childhood memories he has.

"We need to tell Lina," he mutters with a shake of his head. He'll probably be delivering _that_ revelation while safely standing behind Maine, out of range of fists. Something's going to get broken when she finds out, and Wash would rather it not be him.

Connie nods, eyeing her datapad. "You want to send that message, or should I?"

With a groan, he pushes himself out of the bed, away from the soothing warmth of his loves. Snatching his own datapad from the nightstand, he types in a quick [ _stop by my room if you have a min_ ] and tosses it back onto his bed. "She's gonna be pissed."

Maine's snort is hard to misinterpret: _That's an understatement._

Wash barely has time to finish situating himself back beside his boyfriend when they hear the knock at the door, and he grumbles as he gets up to open it. Carolina is dressed only in her bodysuit; must have been stripping down after training. She spends most of her time training these days. Pushing herself until she collapses, ignoring every warning from FILSS. The dark circles under her eyes are testament to that, but she smiles as she pushes past him into the room.

That smile quickly morphs into a frown when she sees Maine and Connie.

"Don't tell me you three broke up."

Maine arches an eyebrow at her, tilting his head just enough to indicate the arm he still has around Connie's slim waist.

Carolina sighs, turning at the click of the door's lock and giving Wash a quizzical look before flopping onto his bed. "I didn't think so, but I had to ask." The pointed look she gives Connie elicits a growl from Maine, but a gentle bonk (Connie's head to his shoulder, since even sitting down their heads are nowhere close to level) convinces him to hush. "You've been acting off recently, CT. It wasn't unreasonable to think it might chafe on your relationship."

The soft laughter really isn't what Wash expected from Connie, but she nods in acceptance. "I know. It probably would have, if Wash hadn't come to me so worried about the big guy."

Now it's Maine giving the pointed look, and Wash is looking anywhere but him. He's also very stubbornly ignoring the growl of, _Worried?_

Where Wash refuses to answer, Connie cheerfully explains, "He was freaking out over your coughing fits, so he came to me for help and that's sort of what led to this entire long conversation."

"I thought you were supposed to get the implant today?" Carolina's question saves Wash from having to meet the stare Maine is giving him.

Fiddling with her datapad, Connie says, "I told him not to."

"Why? The AI is supposed to help him communicate with us."

"USL would be simpler," Connie points out gently, and the look on Carolina's face is enough for Wash to guess that in her self-loathing and blame, Universal Sign Language didn't even cross her mind. "And you know he's never needed words to get a point across."

An uncomfortable silence. Finally, Carolina bows her head. "I know. I just... It's my fault you got shot--" here Maine snarls, a sound that makes Wash jump slightly-- "and I felt-- feel like I have to make it up to you."

The stare Maine is giving her says, _Not your fault._ The quieter growl is _Saved you._

"You did," the redhead agrees, "but if I'd been paying more attention, hadn't gotten distracted... your throat..."

Wash figures he's going to let Lina figure out _that_ growl's meaning on her own. And judging by the way her emerald eyes narrow at Maine, nothing was lost in translation.

"Alright, I get it," Carolina relents. "You don't have to take the AI if you don't want it."

"They're not what we thought they were, anyway," Wash interrupts. "Giving Sigma to Maine... wouldn't have turned out well."

"What do you mean?" Carolina asks, and Wash crosses in front of her to sit back next to Maine. He's definitely not trying to hide. Nope, not at all.

"Sis, you are _really_ not going to like this."

Carolina glares. "Not going to like what?"

"We found out something about the AI... and about Tex."

 

In this universe, something gets broken. Luckily, it is not Wash.


	5. Chapter 5

"I didn't know you could do that without power armor," Wash remarks, staring with a mixture of bewilderment and awe at the roughly head-sized dent in the metal wall above his bed. "I mean, Maine might be able to, but holy shit."

It turns out that finding out your rival teammate is an artificial fabrication of your deceased mother adds a lot of extra power to punches. _Fury_ is too tame a word to apply to his sister's anger right now, but Washington isn't entirely certain the Common language even _has_ a word for what she's feeling. Maybe there's something the Sangheili would use for it, but Wash is at a loss.

For their parts Maine and Connie appear unfazed by the fact that his sister just slammed her fist into the wall with enough force to _dent_ it and is now sitting across the small room from them flexing her bruising right hand, impossibly green eyes glittering dangerously. And it's great that they're so calm about this, because Wash is fucking _terrified_ and the only thing keeping him from giving in to his sudden desire to run and hide is the knowledge that Carolina would never intentionally hurt him.

Their father, on the other hand...

Well. She's definitely going to hurt him. The question is, how badly. There might not be anything _left_ for the UNSC to arrest by the time Carolina's done with the Director. Wash can't find it in him to feel sorry for the man.

Maine grunts at Connie, gently lifting her from his lap and leaving the bed to cross the short distance to Carolina. Kneeling in front of her, he takes her hand-- his own have always been large and rough, but Wash knows firsthand how tender that touch can be. He carefully rubs and tests her hand, turning it over in his own, tapping her fingers when he wants her to curl or straighten them.

After a full two minutes of this inspection, he growls, nodding to himself. _Not broken_. Pity they can't say the same for the wall; Wash doesn't envy his sister the ache she'll feel for the next few days.

"What gives him the right?" Carolina spits out the moment Maine stands again, big hand ruffling her messy red hair. "The fuck gives him the right to do that to her?"

Connie grimaces. "I know it won't help to hear, but she wasn't intentional."

"You're right," Lina snaps, "it doesn't help. He never fucking got over her, and now he thinks she's back and it's this whole pining thing all over again."

Maine's snarl almost drowns out Wash when he says, "Hey, it's not her fault for any of this!" Connie is frowning, but silent.

Head dropping away from Maine's hand, Carolina sighs deeply. "I know. I'm sorry, CT." Connie doesn't smile, but she does offer Carolina a nod. "No wonder she's so strong. No wonder he fucking treats her so differently from all of us."

"She doesn't know," Connie whispers, barely shifting as Maine plunks himself gracelessly beside her, concern radiating off of him. "She has no clue. Not that she's an AI, not who she's supposed to be. She's just doing what he tells her because she thinks she's a soldier like us."

"And we're all good little soldiers, aren't we."

Wash isn't used to the malevolence he hears in his sister's voice, and honestly it's kind of freaking him out. Okay, more than kind of. He is well and truly freaked the everloving fuck out right now, and would really like to return to being in a safe and warm pile of cuddles on Maine's bed and _not_ having a vengeful goddess sitting five feet away from him looking like she wants to tear the Director's throat out with her teeth.

Well. He knew it wouldn't exactly be a cakewalk telling Carolina the truth. And this isn't the last time they'll be having this conversation today, because there is one person who deserves to know the truth just as much as he and Carolina did. Wash isn't looking forward to that conversation, partly because none of them are on anything close to speaking terms with Texas, and he doesn't relish the thought of being trapped in a small room with an enraged Lina and whatever unholy fury Tex might unleash on them for telling her.

Okay, Wash isn't sure there will _be_ any kind of unholy fury, because he's still not convinced Texas even has emotions-- ( _is he being insensitive for thinking that he thought it even before knowing she was an AI but Delta and Theta seem to have emotions and they're pretty cool and Tex is kind of a bitch and_ oh fuck _even if she isn't at all his mother he feels so awkward thinking that_ )-- to begin with. Her personality seems to be made up of punches and intimidating glares, plus the whole fiasco that was her first and only public sparring session.

"Still, she deserves to know."

He doesn't realize he's said that aloud until he registers the cold silence in the room-- not from Maine, who still has his eyes on Carolina, or from Connie, who is nodding at Wash. Ignoring his sister's glare, he manages to swallow his discomfort long enough to pick up his datapad.

"Our room is a little small for five people, so... locker room? Rec room?"

Connie shakes her head. "Anyone can come or go at any time. Somewhere else. Hangar?"

"Niner might let us use the back of the Pelican," Wash ventures, only to wilt at twin snorts from the girls.

"If we let her listen in," Lina retorts.

"Well y-yeah," he stammers, "but you know she wouldn't tell anyone. And there'd be plenty of room so you two can do that weird distancey thing you do and probably not throw any more punches cause Niner will kill me if you damage her ship and--"

This time both Connie _and_ Maine do the Wash-you're-babbling gesture, then immediately collapse into a giggling pile on Maine's bed while Wash flushes up an interesting shade of scarlet that causes his freckles to pop magnificently. Even Carolina's lips twitch up into a smile, a sound not quite like a laugh but definitely not anything made of anger leaving her.

"It's a good idea, Wash," she murmurs, standing and rubbing her bruised hand. "But you're going to be the one to convince Niner _and_ get Tex to come."

Any reassurance Washington might have felt from her calling it a good idea melts into a pitiful puddle as he lets the knowledge that _he_ will have to talk to Tex sink in.

"I thought you loved me," he complains even as he steps aside to let her leave the room.

"I do," Lina replies cheerfully. "That's why I warned you ahead of time."

 

In this universe, Texas doesn't find out the truth from a woman she just killed.


	6. Chapter 6

Surprisingly, talking to Texas is the easy part of this entire situation.

It is the easiest because Wash, extremely courageous high-ranking agent of Project Freelancer, chickens out and sends her a textCOM message because he doesn't even know where to _begin_ trying to convince Tex to meet them in the hangar. He's not even sure she'll come anyway, since she hasn't responded to his message and definitely isn't in the hangar with him.

That brings him to the difficult part of things, which is convincing 479er to let them use the back of her pelican to talk.

479er is _fucking scary_. Scarier than anyone else on the _Mother of Invention_ , he's pretty sure.

Wash will never, ever admit this to Carolina, Tex, or any other woman in the entirety of the Project, because he values his balls and also his life.

In the end, he doesn't even know _what_ he promised Niner in return for the use of her Pelican, only that it will involve a "loss of dignity". That could mean any number of things and he really doesn't want to think about them right now. Or ever.

For now he doesn't have to think of it, because Maine steps into the hangar, looks around, and makes a beeline for Wash once he sees him. The gentle shove surprises Wash, but Maine doesn't let him move away, pointing to the Pelican's interior. Wash obliges, clambering up the lowered ramp and into the shadowy bay with Maine right behind him.

His textCOM pings.

[ **CT:** _disabled the cameras, but anyone walking in will get suspicious if they see you._ ]

[ _where the heck are you???_ ] he sends back, scanning what he can see of the hangar from the entrance of the ship.

A long pause, then, [ **CT:** _nearby_ ].

 _That's helpful,_ Wash thinks as he takes a seat in the Pelican, Maine settling next to him. Some seconds later, a faint, vaguely human-shaped shimmer moves up the ramp toward them and sits down across from them. The active camo flickers out to reveal Carolina.

"You seriously put your armor on again?"

He can imagine the glare she's giving him. "There's going to be a fight, Wash. Whether it's me and her, or us and the Director, it'll happen."

He doesn't have a good or witty response to that, choosing instead to keep his mouth shut. The silence isn't uncomfortable. Wash leans against Maine, head on the larger man's shoulder and Maine's arm around his. One thing Wash has always noticed is that Maine is very warm. It's amazing when cuddling, even if it's only like this. Connie has referred to him on multiple occasions as a teddy bear.

A very large teddy bear made of punches.

Wash is actually dozing off by the time Connie slips into the back of the Pelican with them, plopping herself on Wash's other side and snuggling into him.

Which is great and all, but this is not a good time for the three of them to devolve into a pile of cuddles. For one, the ship's seats aren't exactly comfortable. They're hard metal, and sitting on them for any length of time inevitably leads to a numb ass and legs.

The second reason not to get too cuddly is the black figure stalking across the hangar toward the ship. Texas punches the button to raise the ramp once she's inside, trapping them in with her.

She doesn't even look at Carolina, immediately turning to him. "The fuck is this about, rookie?"

Wash doesn't point out that since she joined the team after him, she's the rookie here. He has enough survival instincts to keep his mouth shut, and he's reassured by the way Maine and Connie both tighten their arms around him.

"Surprised you came," he mutters. "There's something you need to know and there's really no easy way to tell you, so I think I'm gonna give you options."

"Options?"

"Yeah. You can either hear it from us, or..." He frees one of his arms from Connie's embrace to lift Connie's datapad, which she left with him when they separated for the few hours it would take for the majority of ship activity to die down. "You can read it for yourself."

"Either way is gonna suck," Tex growls, holding out a hand. "It'll be quicker for me to read it."

"There's a lot of files there," Connie warns as Tex takes one of the seats closest to the ramp, as far from the rest of them as she can be.

The silence this time is anything but companionable, the four of them watching Tex intently while trying to look like they're doing anything but. Wash manages to wiggle enough to put an arm around each of his partners, grateful for their proximity and their support. It still doesn't do much to lessen the tension in the bay.

They can see the exact moment Tex starts the section of files related to her identity. The quiet hiss of indrawn breath, the tightening of her shoulders. The slightest shake of her helmet as if in disbelief.

As she continues, a faint, blackish glow begins to outline her, and Wash swears he can hear another voice whispering. In fact, he's positive of it. A male voice, low, growly, and it gets louder when Tex sets the datapad in her lap and makes a grab for her helmet.

The person beneath the mask is... nothing like his mother. Dark skin, brown hair instead of blonde, eyes the color of a cloudy sky. Wash isn't sure if he's relieved or disappointed. Behind her own helmet, Carolina's expression is unreadable.

"Omega. Where the fuck is the chip."

The glowing outline fades, replaced by a holographic projection just like those of Delta and Theta. That same maniacal voice issues from this shadow. "Why would I help you remove it?"

"Because if you don't, I'll _crush_ yours."

"If you remove your own, the human you overrode will die."

"I'm not gonna ask you again."

Connie clears her throat. "It's embedded higher than the implants are. Base of the skull. Smaller than the standard chips, too."

Tex nods wordlessly, hesitating a moment before reaching for the back of her neck, fingertips seeking the implant.

Omega's hologram fizzles out as she pulls him. When she lifts her head again, looks at them, those eyes are filled with fury. "I'm going to kill him."

"Get in line," Carolina snaps, pushing away from her seat and walking toward the ramp. After it lowers, Tex follows her, leaving Wash, Connie, and Maine alone.

"That... went better than expected," Wash finally mumbles, earning a rumble of laughter from Maine.

"Tex isn't the type to break down," Connie points out. "Whether it's because she's an AI or because of the personality she's based on, she'll push aside whatever emotions she doesn't find useful right now so that she can beat the shit out of your dad over it."

The three are silent for a few seconds before Maine growls something.

"Yeah," Wash chuckles, "I think we should get popcorn too."

 

In this universe, our trio sits back while two very, _very_ pissed off ladies go after the Director.


	7. Chapter 7

When Maine, Wash, and Connie follow after Carolina and Tex, they run into a very confused North. His helmet is off, hair mussed as if he only took it off moments before the three rounded the corner. When he sees them, he frowns, tucking the helmet under his arm.

"Lina and Tex just stormed past me," he says slowly, clearly hoping for an explanation.

"Where's South?" Connie asks, glancing up and down the hallway.

"Stripping down, I think." Brow furrowing, North eyes the three of them. "Why?"

"We found out some things about the Director," she answers, linking her arm with Wash's. "They went to confront him."

There is a long pause before North nods and settles his helmet back in place. "How bad?" he asks, tilting his head toward the way they were going. He falls easily into step beside Connie as they resume walking.

After glancing up at Wash and Maine and neither voicing an objection, Connie frowns. "Is Theta online?"

Another pause, then a shake of his head. "No," North replies.

"It's bad enough that if we don't catch up to those two, it's gonna get much worse."

Wash can imagine the look on North's face, that unique brand of concern only magnified by the question about Theta. He hears the deep, slow breath hiss its way into the helmet's filtration system before the older Dakota nods again to himself.

"It's about the AI."

Not a question. "Yeah," Wash confirms as they round the next corner. There's several routes on the ship that lead to the Director's office; this is the quickest. He figures that's why Carolina and Tex took this path too.

"You should ping South if you can. Tell her something's happening so she doesn't try to stop the girls if she runs into them."

"Already did," North replies, and Wash hears the smirk in his voice. Of course he already sent her a message; probably did the moment he slid the helmet back on. The textCOM in the HUD is easy enough to use when not under fire. "She'll meet us outside the office."

Even with the arguments the two have been having recently, when shit hits the fan the Dakota twins have always had each other's backs. And since the Director is directly responsible for some of those fights... South won't stand in their way. Hell, she might even shoot him before anyone else can, too impatient to wait for the justice system to take care of it.

... That is, assuming Lina and Tex will even _let_ the UNSC take care of this.

"Pinged York too," North adds, ignoring the stares from the off-duty staff they pass. "Says he's on his way."

"That leaves Florida and Wyoming," Connie muses, glancing down the next hall as they turn the other way. Maine growls, and she and Wash both snort, North turning to give them what Wash assumes is a confused look.

"Yeah," Wash says for North's benefit, "if they try to interrupt you can handle them, big guy."

By the time they reach the hall with the Director's office at the end, York--the only one of them completely dressed down in civilian clothes-- is halfway down it and South is already leaning against the wall by the door. Her posture reads annoyance, but she straightens as they close the distance, hand hovering near the sidearm that should have been left in her locker.

 _This isn't the time to worry about regulations,_ Wash chides himself, giving the orchid figure a tight-lipped smile.

"There's yelling inside," she announces, for once keeping her voice low. "Haven't heard that fuckhead's stupid accent yet." Gesturing to York, she jerks her thumb at the office lock. "Think you can pick something for once?"

"D, can you gimme a hand?" York says as he kneels by the door, but the green hologram doesn't flicker to life. The conversation must be all in York's head, the AI guiding his hands as he works on the damned holo-lock.

Thirty seconds in, York's hands still for a moment before he pulls them back and presses his ear against the door, bad eye closed. "I hear Price," he whispers when he pulls back. "Sounds like he's trying to convince them to stand down."

"As if," South spits as York goes back to work on the lock. Fifteen seconds later, he nods to himself and stands.

"Shall we?"

The scene that greets them is significantly less bloody than Wash expected, by which he means to say, not at all bloody. The Director is seated at his desk, face impassive despite his daughter and Texas both training their pistols on his chest. He doesn't even twitch at this newest intrusion, despite the look of disgust Wash shoots him. Florida and Wyoming are standing against the opposite wall, the latter glaring daggers at the newcomers. Florida offers that small, disconcerting smile of his before returning his attention to the spectacle before him. Both are in civvies, and look like they haven't slept in days; probably debriefing after a mission when Tex and Lina barged in.

Wash tries to untangle his arms from his partners, but Maine and Connie actually tighten their grips, Maine shaking his head when Wash looks up at him for an explanation.

"So you know," Church says entirely too calmly, not taking those green eyes from Carolina. ( _It's not her fault she has his eyes, not fair for her to be reminded of him, and he feels so bad for being grateful he has their mother's blue eyes_.)

Catching York's attention, Wash says flatly, "You might want to have Delta sign off."

York's entire face scrunches up whenever he frowns; usually Wash would tease him about it, but there's no mirth in this situation. After a second of what Wash guesses is that internal communication thing York and North have mentioned, York gives him the barest of nods.

"Not all of us," Lina concedes to her father, "but enough that you can't talk your way out of this."

"I know."

 

In this universe, someone really should have thrown a punch.


	8. Chapter 8

"You know," Wash repeats, dumbfounded. "You _know_? That's _all_ you have to say about it?!"

He was going to stay out of it. He was going to stand back and let his sister and Tex take care of things because Carolina was hurt and manipulated and ignored and Texas was fucking _used_ and really, it's suicidal to get in their way right now. He was totally fine with the idea of them dealing with the Director on their own, so long as he knew that fucker was finally going to pay for what he did.

That plan of action goes right out the damn window as Wash tries to rip his arms out of his paramours' grips. It doesn't even come close to working; Connie may be small but she is not weak, and Maine is... well, Maine. Wash doesn't get more than an inch or two of slack before he stops trying to pull away, glaring at his father across the room.

"You fucking _tortured them_!" Wash explodes, breaking eye contact with his father long enough for quick glances at North, York, and Wyoming. He carefully avoids meeting Tex's gaze. "You fucking patched them up and sent them off to us like you didn't make them through fucking _breaking_ them! 

"And _her_!" he adds, jerking his head toward Texas; Maine and Connie wisely keep their grips on his arms. "She doesn't deserve this _and neither does Mom._ "

Church jerks back as if slapped. "I did it _for her_ ," he insists, gesturing at thin air. "I did it so she could live again."

"You did it for yourself," Carolina mutters in disgust. Her voice rises as she continues. "You didn't want to live without her, couldn't fucking let her go long enough to help your own _kids_ through losing her!"

( _Arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as if he's the only thing left in the world that matters-- the same way he's clinging to her. She's gone she's gone and he's gone too he won't leave his room he won't talk to them. Lina tries to make dinner burns it and their uncle orders pizza but_ he _won't leave his room won't leave it won't--_ )

Wash misses most of what passes between Carolina and their father when the memories hit, screwing his eyes closed and trying not to think of how it felt to hear the news-- a simple "she's gone" from their father before he retreated into his room.

 _He never really left that room_ , Wash thinks as his attention returns back to the scene at hand. _Didn't even try._

"She deserves better than this," he interrupts, cutting off whatever excuse the Director was giving. "Mom doesn't deserve this self-serving, obsessive bullshit." Finally looking at Texas, he continues. "And _she_ deserves better than this. Tex doesn't deserve to be this-- this ghost of a woman you never let go of. And you know what? _We_ deserve better, too! Lina and I lost our _mother_ , and then we lost our father too because let's face it: you were never a fucking father to us."

Church winces; Connie gently rubs a hand up and down Wash's shoulders and back as he stares at the reason he didn't get to have a childhood worth a damn. 

"We were hurting too," Wash finishes hoarsely, lowering his head.

Which means he is staring at the floor when Florida begins to slowly circle the room, finally coming to a stop behind the Director's chair. His expression is unreadable, emerald green gaze focused on the back of the Director's head. His stance is relaxed when Wash lifts his head again, but Flowers has a reputation for snapping someone's neck roughly three seconds after smiling and shaking their hand. He is a frightening son of a bitch, and Wash can't for the life of him tell what the older man is thinking. In fact, there's only one thing he's certain of when it comes to Florida.

Those shadows in his eyes aren't from lack of sleep.

"Carolina," Florida says conversationally, as if asking about the goddamned weather, "this can be over very quickly, with minimal pain." A pause, a thoughtful tilt of his head, and then a cold smile blooms across Flowers' face. "Well, painless for you and our dear rookie. My delightful boyfriend does happen to have Gamma as his partner after all, and there's just something _so_ unfair about torturing someone who doesn't even have a chance to fight back."

Right. Florida has a thing about torture. He isn't _against_ it, necessarily; he's been known to have a "do what you must" attitude in the field, regardless of whether or not that _must_ is morally repugnant. But there is a vast difference between torturing an enemy in the field to get information that could benefit or save others-- his family (the freelancers) in particular-- and torturing any person who possesses neither the opportunity nor the ability to fight back, AI included.

Turning his attention to Carolina, Wash watches her think on it. Sees the exact moment she considers actually saying _go for it_. The slow inhale, heavy sigh, the almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"No," she murmurs, almost too softly for Wash to hear. "No. Let the authorities have him. Wyoming?"

The British soldier straightens slightly, arching an eyebrow in question. "Yes?"

"Call Command. Tell them the Director of Project Freelancer has been detained for committing a war crime, and that control of the ship has passed to the next highest ranking officer."

Wyoming shakes his head. "Might I point out that the next highest ranking officer on this ship is Aiden Price?"

The growl Lina lets out is startlingly similar to Maine's as she turns to the Counselor, who has wisely kept silent this entire time. "We're detaining him too. He knew what was going on. I guess that means control transfers to the highest ranking military officer, which is..."

"You," Florida finishes cheerfully, pinning the Director to his desk to silence the protests he begins to spew. Wyoming has the Counselor similarly pinned against the wall. "And might I say you've done a mighty fine job tonight, Carolina?"

Lina doesn't smile as Wyoming and Florida leave the office; Wyoming to the comms room and Florida holding Church's arms behind his back, leading him toward the brig.

One glance around the room before she turns on her heel and stalks out of the room, the others following at their own pace. She doesn't stop, doesn't even speak (and none of them are going to break the silence before her) until she reaches the Alpha team rec room and practically throws herself into the nearest chair.

Wash, arms now freed, collapses onto the couch, Connie plopping down beside him. Maine elects to stand behind the sofa, large, warm hands on their shoulders. North and South take the other two chairs in the room, slowly removing their helmets. The hiss of the releases is the only sound in the room besides bodies shuffling to get comfortable. Tex takes the remaining third of the sofa, giving Connie an awkward glance as she does.

Left with nowhere to park his ass, York kneels in front of Carolina's chair, studying her face. She doesn't stop him when he reaches to take her bruised hand, examining the ugly purple splotches.

None of them speak.

 

In this universe, justice is served. But maybe it would have been less hassle to just kill one Leonard L. Church outright.


	9. Chapter 9

In this universe, the Project is dissolved.

 

The ship is still grounded during the trials, and some of the Freelancers don't have homes to go back to. The UNSC gives them permission to stay on the _Mother_ while the trials are conducted, though many of the others return home or make visits.

Florida and Wyoming saunter off the ship hand in hand, an exaggerated swagger to the former's hips. The Dakota twins also disembark, off to visit family or friends or possibly get stinking drunk after this entire ordeal. Niner follows as well, though there's no question about her intention to hit every bar this miserable port has. York checks in with some old buddies of his, says he'll couchsurf for a while until the Director's trials are finished.

He doesn't say what he'll do after that; it's obvious enough that he'll follow Carolina wherever she goes.

Carolina and Washington don't have a family to go back to. Neither does Maine, as far as anyone can tell; he brushes off all attempts to question him about it. Connie doesn't talk about her family either, going silent when asked. For a while, the four of them stay on the ship, haunting their old rooms-- Connie with Maine and Wash, since the room she shared with South is "too empty".

Tex stays as well. Her attempt to free the Alpha doesn't go as planned, so she stays in her bedroom, the pod that contains his entire existence sitting on her bedside table. She thinks she can help him heal, if she talks with him enough, helps him piece himself back together as much as he can without the other AIs. She doesn't know what she'll do after that, she tells the others

None of them do.

The bunks in Maine's and Washington's room are pushed together again. Tucked into the far corner of the room, they are covered with more blankets and pillows than their three owners could possibly use. Wash gets more rest than he has in weeks; it's easier to sleep cuddled up to Maine and Connie than alone, or with just one of them. They are an easy and constant comfort, especially now that the stress of his father is gone and Connie is no longer hiding from him and Maine. 

Their days are mostly spent catching up on all the missed conversations and snuggles from the months Connie worked on breaking into the Director's database. Paychecks are still cashed; now paid directly by the UNSC instead of from the Project's funding. The ship mess is still stocked for those who have nowhere else to go, but they take frequent trips off ship to meet up with the rest of the team for meals or just to talk.

Future uncertain, everyone is making the most of their paid vacation. They train in local gyms or in the _Mother of Invention's_ training room despite not knowing if they'll still be soldiers when the Director is finally taken care of.

The twins return to the ship after a month, claiming to have worn out their welcome at home. South confides in Connie that even though they love their parents, that house doesn't feel as much like home as the ship. That, and North is tired of having to hide Theta from their family.

Florida and Wyoming reappear out of nowhere one day. No one has any recollection of them boarding the ship again, not even the few staff still present on board. They don't even show up _on camera_. Wash walks down to the firing range for some practice only to find Florida leaning casually against a wall, polishing his Magnum. He doesn't explain how or why he and Reggie are back on board.

A few weeks after that, York stumbles onto the ship drunk out of his gourd and passes out in a supply closet for who knows how many hours before someone finds him and alerts Carolina to collect her drunk boyfriend. When he sobers up he complains of no good places to practice lock picking, and how if you try to practice on your friend's door you're "breaking in" and "a thief" and how even his "rugged good looks" aren't getting him a break.

Somehow, even when they all go out to lunches or sightseeing or really anything that gets them off the ship, they always come back. The others settle back into their old rooms as if they'd never left.

Maine still has coughing fits, but as time goes on they grow less frequent. Wash still worries, gets a humorous growl of _mother hen_ whenever he frets about whether or not they should take him to the infirmary or a local hospital. Connie reassures him and Maine starts to look less afraid after each fit subsides, and Wash begins to believe he'll be okay.

 

Three months into the long vacation, Washington begins to entertain the idea of the three of them renting a shitty little apartment somewhere planetside; it doesn't have to be Earth, could be literally anywhere as long as he was with them. Carolina too, since the two have refused to be separated since, well, Washington's birth. He might as well include York too, knowing the locksmith will want to be with Carolina. Maybe they'll rent an apartment together and Wash, Connie, and Maine will have theirs and each group will invite each other over for dinner and to reminisce about old times. Or get soused and play poker, more likely; Wash can't imagine anyone on the team having a normal, tame dinner party.

They'll get a cat or two, and a king-sized bed with plenty of room for movie night cuddles and... other things. Take turns cooking dinner and cleaning up, get mundane little jobs like... well, whatever they could get with their rather interesting skill sets. Maybe have a balcony garden, since he knows Maine's secret interest in things that grow. Or hell, they'll save up and get a house and then Maine could have an _actual_ garden and he and Connie could practice knife tricks in the backyard.

One day he brings up the idea between bouts of kissing, pulling away from Connie just long enough to whisper the beginning of his cute domestic fantasy. He doesn't even realize he said it aloud until Maine gives a grunt of surprise, Connie giggling and leaning back against the big guy.

"It's not a bad idea, Wash," she says with a grin. "But we'd get bored so quickly trying to live a nice, domestic life."

Maine's snort roughly translates into laughter, a wide smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle. Wash sighs.

"I know, it was a stupid idea." He ducks the playful smack to his head from both of his partners, frowning. "I just thought... if we're out of a job when this trial thing is over... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to try...?"

Connie's smile isn't unkind. "The Project is over, Wash. At least the way it was. But the war is still on, and we're the best of the best." She sits up again, gently kissing his cheek. Maine rumbles something, hand coming up to cup Wash's other cheek. "He's right," Connie chuckles. "Everyone's come back to the ship, even Niner. We won't be out of a job."

Wash nods, letting himself relax against them again. "Yeah," he mumbles against Maine's bare chest, sighing to himself.

He isn't disappointed, not really. Connie's right; they'd get bored with civilian life in record time; he and Carolina have always been military kids, joined as soon as they graduated school. Maine doesn't talk about his past much but he's never mentioned anything _but_ a military life. And Connie would hack everything in a five mile radius within a few days.

Even if the Project dissolves, there's a war out there to fight, an army that could use their expertise. They'll be okay.

He drifts off to sleep with his arms around Connie and Maine's around both of them.

 

"Due to the recent incarceration of the Director of Project Freelancer, the decision has been made to disband the Project," the grey UNSC official informs the freelancers several days later, seated behind the desk that belonged to Church and looking immensely uncomfortable with the ten sets of eyes locked on him. Wash really doesn't blame him; they were told to dress in uniform, but the only "uniform" the freelancers have is their power armor.

Or, that's the excuse they gave him. He then asked them to remove their helmets, not realizing that actually _seeing_ them watch him would be so much worse than seeing only the visors.

"So what do you expect us to do?" Tex's voice is a little rough from lack of sleep; her attempts to help the Alpha have not gone well in the months they've been here.

"Yes, well... ah." Wash suspects this is the point where the man would normally shuffle papers or fiddle with pens in order to distract himself from the soldiers he faces. The desk is bare. "If you are amenable, Project Freelancer will be replaced with the Freelancer Initiative. You will have access to the same assets and experimental tech, the same training resources, and even the same ship. Your assignments will be directly passed down from Command. A new director will be chosen. Just... consider it a change in leadership.

Carolina's eyes narrow. "As long as they don't expect to change how I handle my team and don't reinstate that damn leaderboard, I have no objections." A sweeping glance at the room. "Anyone else?"

Wash doesn't know what she expects, a chorus of no's? He can see it in their eyes already; they'll follow wherever she goes. _She_ leads them, not the Director, and not whoever they'll put in charge to replace him. The smiles and nods are all the confirmation she needs.

"We'll do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This was supposed to be a oneshot, but I'm honestly so glad it turned out the way it did, even if it was totally unexpected.
> 
> <3


End file.
